o, if I'd been in his shoes. She must be
a darling. I'm very anxious to see if she is pretty. Miss Gee says she
is. She says that typhoid girl is pretty, too. The one who has been here
ten weeks now and is still so sick. I don't s'pose they'd let me see her
yet. She calls one of her legs Isaiah and the other Jeremiah, 'cause one
of 'em doesn't bother her and the other does. Isaiah in the Bible told
about the good things that were going to happen, and Jeremiah was always
growling about the bad things that had happened. She must be a funny
girl to figure all that out, don't you think? Then there are those two
little girls in the Children's Ward,--the one with the hip disease
that's been here two whole years, and the other that's got _pugnacious_
aenemia. I'd like awful well to see them, 'cause neither one has a
mother. And there's the weenty, weenty woman with nervous
_prospertation_, but I'm most p'ticularly interested in Billy Bolee.

"Nurse Redfern brought him in to see me a few minutes ago, while you
were eating your breakfast. Isn't he the prettiest little fellow you
ever saw, and hasn't he got the worst name? I don't see what his mother
could be thinking about to call him that."

"But that isn't his real name, dear," answered the nurse, busy at making
her talkative little patient comfortable for the day.

"Then why do they call him that?"

"Because we don't know his real name. His mother died here in the
hospital weeks ago without telling us who she was or anything about her
history. The baby talked nothing but Dutch, and though Dr. Kruger, of
the hospital staff, is Dutch, he could not make out from the child's
baby-talk what his name is."

"And so they picked out that horrid Billy-Bolee name," exclaimed Peace
disgustedly.

"That was because he kept saying something which sounded like Billy
Bolee. We didn't know what he meant, but began to refer to him in that
manner, and the name stuck."

"Does he talk American now?"

"A little, but of course it is like learning to talk again, and we often
have to get Dr. Kruger to interpret his wants even yet. I'll never
forget one of the first nights he was here. He cried and cried until
the whole staff of nurses was nearly frantic, because we could find
nothing to soothe him. He kept repeating some strange words, as if he
was trying to tell us what he wanted, but none of us understood. At that
time we didn't even know his nationality, but while he was still howling
lus